


S. A. S.

by AspiratingAnxiety



Category: Dragon Age, Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: A/B/O, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alright i am a little ashamed, F/M, God knows I forgot some characters, I am not ashamed, Kirkwall though, Modern AU, There will be knotting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-02
Updated: 2018-03-01
Packaged: 2019-03-25 20:24:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13842345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AspiratingAnxiety/pseuds/AspiratingAnxiety
Summary: When a run-down elvhen Omega has no where else to turn, her boss drags her into the Surrogate Alpha Services building. Who knew you could stumble upon major players in the mage underground volunteering in Darktown?





	S. A. S.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for clicking this story! I know the first chapter is kinda' long, but I am very invested in ABO world building, so it's kinda like sorry, not sorry.

Honestly, he hadn’t known what to expect, but it certainly wasn’t the small, sad structure before him. The dull, oatmeal-colored shoebox -crowded by neighboring cinderblock buildings all in a similar state of dilapidation- was the brightest thing on the street. This wasn’t a surprise. It _was_ called Darktown, after all. It’s not like the city actually budgeted for decent lighting down here.

Solas hadn’t seen much of this side of town, or level, as it were. The whole damn place was, quite literally, a pit. He’d avoided it, focusing instead on Lowtown and the Historic District of Kirkwall. The nondescript lettering perched atop the entrance read **_S_** _urrogate **A** lpha **S** ervices_. The capital letters that began each word were overly emphasized with a bolded, blocky text that made the rest of the language look all the more ineffectual.

“So,” Solas said, cocking his head, not looking toward his friend. His voice was underwhelmed. “This is where you’ve been instead of the meetings? A place called Sass?”

“No one calls it ‘sass,’ you jackass,” Felassan snapped, rolling his shoulders. “It’s the Surrogate Alpha Services outreach program, and you should really be getting back to your stodgy meeting.”

“The meetings aren’t stodgy.” Solas searched his mind for a singular word to encompass the true nature of the mage underground’s local meet-ups. A handful of seconds passed, and the wrinkle that had creased the skin of his nose after his friend’s dismissal straightened out. “They’re important. This week we were discussing the potential benefits of mages outsourcing their skills into various branches of the economy, rather than being pigeon-holed into the medical system or special forces. There’s going to be a protest at some-“

“I don’t really care, Solas. My time starts in five minutes, and I’ve still got to clock in.” Felassan rudely waved his hand in Solas’ face. “You just get back to that meeting about whatever.”

He watched with quiet outrage as Felassan sauntered off toward the building.

He followed.

“No. I have already told them that I would be volunteering with you today. That _is_ what we’re doing. Volunteering.” He over-annunciated the word. “It’s not as though you’re beginning a shift at a reputable job, Felassan. You’re not a psychologist or a placement official. Do not behave as though posturing around anxious betas for a couple of hours a week is answering a need of greater importance than the committee’s work.”

It was always just “the committee” out in public. Mentioning bits and pieces of mage rights rallies was no big tipoff: there were plenty of equal rights groups active in Kirkwall at any given time. The moment one actually uttered confirmation of belonging to the violent and oh _-_ so-frightening mage underground, problems could arise. Last month, some poor idiot led a group of Templars halfway to an official meeting. At every turn she had linked the underground with hissing and spitting about targets, explosions, and demons.

Needless to say, she had not been officiated as a member.  

Felassan whipped around and glared at him. “This _is_ fulfilling a more pressing need in the community, Solas!”

He stood point, defending the doors from Solas’ entry. The severity of his friend’s demeanor gave him pause. It was unlike Felassan to be so serious, especially about something that involved other people and their problems.

The doors to the dingy building had yet to open, but Solas could already scent the waves of unease and confusion rolling off of those seeking comfort. It was a particular turmoil experienced when not bonded into a pack.

A very special hell.

Thinking of it made Solas’ stomach clench. Such close-knit relations were the unpleasant need for those of a more submissive nature. Not for the first time, Solas was grateful that he was a dominant personality. Dominance was, in the end, independence. To be so reliant upon the steady presence of another, while potentially pleasant in many ways, was also terrifying. Should that person one day choose to leave behind those few bound closely to them, it was not the departing alpha who would suffer, but the lesser alphas and the betas who had been linked to them.

This threat of abandonment was horrible enough without thinking through the dangers of those bound to an alpha who would abuse their dominance…

Perhaps he was not giving credit where it was due. While he doubted that the work and mission behind this service was greater than that of the mage underground, Felassan had been faithfully volunteering for this Surrogate Alpha Services for nearly three solid months. Obviously, he felt strongly that good was being done here. Or, at the very least, that there was potentially beneficial fun to be had.

Solas imagined that many interesting personalities were behind the running of such a place. It would be educational, if nothing else. He found himself particularly curious about the coordination of so many alphas in such a small space. Did they check through individual dominant gestures and place submissives with alphas who were most suited to their needs? What exactly did they offer? Was it simple contact and conversation? That’s just about all that they could legally offer.

This establishment, however, did not exude a steady sense of legality.

“Felassan,” Solas said, offering a friendly pat to the other man’s shoulder. “I do not mean to belittle the work that you do here. I am curious, and I would like to learn.”

Felassan narrowed his eyes, mouth scrunching into a wrinkled mass down in the left corner of his face. It was an overly theatrical expression of skepticism, and Solas knew that there would be no ill will between them.

“I suppose,” Felassan mused, “that you can come in. So long as you promise not to be an ass to the sweet guy that runs the front desk.”

“Why, exactly, do you think that I would be an ass to him?”

“You ask sharp questions and condescend, Solas. He’s not a very quick boy. You’d get away with a lot, and you always try to get away with as much as you can. Please be especially considerate. I am asking this as your friend. Just-” Felassan sighed, turning away from Solas and slinging the door open. He motioned for Solas to enter before him. “Turn on your best people skills, okay? Everyone that comes in here is already overwhelmed as it is.”

 

\---

 

She planted her feet just outside of the grimy doors. There was a cracked web in the glass, almost as though someone had struck the lower portion of the far door with a hammer.

“I can’t do it.”

Anders groaned. “Come on, Lira. It will just be a quick, ‘Hi, how do you do?’ and then a ‘Not so great. Been living off of the reservation for a while now, and I just realized how badly being without the others was affecting me!’ and then it will all be over.” The beta wrapped his fingers around her bicep in a comforting gesture. He did not pull her toward the door. “People like you are why programs like Surrogate Alpha Services exist.”

Lira huffed. She blinked hard a few times as she battled against the devastating roar in her ears. She was embarrassed. She was also frightened. The entire building stunk of beta-anxiety and alpha. _So_ much alpha. So many. It was absolutely overwhelming. There wasn’t another omega around for miles, certainly not another in this place.

She could back out of this by linking up with Hawke, maybe. Garrett was a sweetheart. He was also Ander’s boyfriend, so there would be no connotation of sexuality between them, were he to become the alpha she recognized.

But she didn’t want to butt in. The two were very happy in their moments with one another, and they got so little time together as it was. Hawke’s little pack had two more alphas, she knew, but she didn’t know them personally. Certainly not well enough to attempt incorporating them into her life and offering up a position of dominance.

No one on the reservation talked to her anymore.

She’d gone to a shem college.

Devoted herself to working under a shem every day.

Going back home wasn’t an option. The only people that she interacted with outside of the professional sphere were Hawke and Anders, and even then, that wasn’t entirely out of the business realm. Anders was her boss at the clinic, and she knew Hawke only because of his presence at the clinic between rushes.

To link with one of the others in Hawke’s pack would cause strife in their hierarchy. The best thing that she could do was visit with a placement official and be introduced to cleared alphas who were looking to take in a stray, but she couldn’t afford a visit to the placement department.

She could sure have afternoon visits with unauthorized alphas looking to get their egos stroked by stressed, antisocial submissives though. Her insurance covered up to _three_ weekly visits to the Surrogate Alpha Services outreach program!

Stupid shemlen government with its band-aids for wounds that needed stitching…

“Come on,” Anders intoned. “It’ll be over quick, and you’ll be able to order your thoughts and deal with the stress from the clinic in a much healthier way. You just need a few minutes with an unbearably dominant personality, and then we’ll be right back to normal. Good as new!”

He was lying, using the ‘we’ phrasing that healthcare professionals used to make the patient feel like they weren’t being criticized.

He was criticizing her.

Tears welled up in Lira’s eyes. This was the final straw, drawing another huff from her as she stomped forward into the building. If she was in her right mind, she would have swatted him. Teased him for using the ‘we’ tone with her. Instead, because her biology was stressing any and every form of interaction as a rejection of some kind, she was a ball of nervous tears and frustration. Her humor had withered like dawn lotus in the sun, and her patience with the clients was at an all-time low. She wasn’t sure what the Surrogate Alpha Services intended to do with her, but it had to help somehow.

A wash of something flopped in her gut.

“Oh,” a wispy voice exclaimed. “An omega? We’ve never had one of those here. Too rare. Too precious.”

Her heart gave a pang, and she bit back further tears. Too rare? Too precious?

Not her.

A pale hand reached out to brush the fingers that she’d slapped onto the front desk. “Brave, and bold, and bright. You are rarer still, not for what you are but who.” Lira raised her eyes to the cloudy blue gaze of the speaker. “Stronger than any to whom I could send you: do not worry. It is not weak to need to be needed.”

She didn’t know what to say to that, and so continued to stare at the boy. He was thin, incredibly so. She noticed the red tint that gathered around the tip of his nose and the rims of his wide watery eyes. The color contrasted violently with the stale pallor of his face. He looked a bit ill, and she felt the desire to feed him take root in her bones. Her fingers itched to check his temperature, brush back his stringy hair. And she wanted to demand to know where his jacket was. It was chilly in this building.

A sheepish smile tugged at the corner of his angry slash of a mouth. “This place is a place to help you, not me. I am not sick. I am not cold.”

She balked. Was he reading her thoughts? What was he? What was this? How?

“Room twelve,” the boy said, nodding to himself. “You will find the right alpha in room twelve.”

Lira stared a few more moments, practically thrusting thoughts through her skull to see if he would respond to them. He only smiled his curious little smile up at her until Anders herded her away from the desk. She noted the clammy feeling of his fingers when her hand slid out from under them as she passed by.

“Thanks uh…” Anders paused a moment, looking down at the name placard as he pushed Lira along. “Cole. We appreciate it,” he added. As the two walked down the cramped hallway, Anders leaned close to whisper. “What a weird kid. You thought he was off too, right?”

She didn’t respond, because who in their right mind wouldn’t think that he was off? Did Anders think that she’d lost her ability to deductively reason along with her ability to deal with anxiety? Did he think that she wasn’t capable of realizing when someone was not quite right? The boy had touched her, for goodness sake! She knew that there was something wrong with him then, even without noting his skeletal proportions and alarming insight into her private insecurities.

Tears of frustration bubbled out of her eyes, and she wiped them away as discretely as she could manage. It was a good thing that room twelve was easy to spot, because she was downright out of control. The things that Cole had said, while somewhat unnerving, had managed to ease much of the humiliation that Lira had tacked onto this whole experience. The sooner that this was over, the sooner she could go clock into the clinic and work away her personal issues.

She took a deep breath, then gave the door three quick knocks. A muffled permission to enter was heard from the other side. Lira took another deep breath, wiped compulsively at her eyes again, and opened the door after a few solid pats from Anders.

Within the small clinical space were two uncomfortable-looking chairs, a battered coffee table, the tiniest loveseat she’d ever seen, and an impressive amount of green linoleum. The smell of alpha was overpowering, but she could still detect the lemon-scented cleaning agent used to mop the floors. Two elves, one standing in a corner with an air of irritation about him and another managing to lounge in one of the stiff-backed chairs, appeared to be pointedly ignoring one another.

“This,” she stopped to clear her throat, appalled with the meek tone she’d mustered. “This is room twelve? I’m not interrupting?”

“Not at all!” the standing elf took a large step toward her. She involuntarily lurched backward into Anders. She hadn’t meant to, and regretted that she’d allowed herself such an awkward reaction when the young man winced. “Sorry,” he said, holding up his hands and attempting a rueful grin. “I’m not going to invade your space. You’re alright. Come on in.”

Lira tried. She really did, but her feet suddenly felt like they were nailed to the floor. Her eyes refused to roll up and meet the stare of the man talking to her, and she focused acutely on not bursting into tears all over again. Anders patted her a few more times. She shuffled forward some. Not much. Just enough for Anders to squeeze in behind her and get the heavy door shut.

“Anders?” the looming elf questioned suddenly. The fond, incredulous tone of the man broke through the uncomfortable fog in the room.

Her boss answered, “Oh, hey! How are ya’, Felassan? I didn’t know you’d started volunteering in these parts. If I’d known you were looking to help out some submissives, I’d have called you _weeks_ ago!”

Lira flushed and stomped blindly at Ander’s feet. She clipped his toes, and earned a stifled grunt. It was a very satisfying sound. The seated elf muffled a chuckle, and a profound sense of accomplishment welled within her.

“Or not. It’s whatever,” Anders went on in a bitter tone. “It was just as good to wait until we were having hourly nervous breakdowns. It’s fine.”

She went after his toes again, but he’d gotten wise. She wobbled clumsily when her heel slipped a bit on the linoleum.

“Anyway,” Anders snorted, steadying her with a hand on the shoulder. “This is my new girl down at the clinic. She goes by Lira.”

At that, the standing elf grunted. She crossed her arms over her chest and attempted to fold herself into the smallest possible shape. The standing elf, Felassan, began an intense discussion with Anders. He didn’t acknowledge her beyond the grunt, but she could still feel his attention on her. He wasn’t looking at her, and he wasn’t speaking to her, but she was most definitely his focus. Lira shifted her weight with a skittish lean.  

Where was that ambient anxiety relief? He was certainly a potent dominant. Was she not a match for him?

Wouldn’t that just be her luck?

Even the underfed mind-reading boy they employed to place submissives in therapy sessions couldn’t parse through her mess.

Lira slunk miserably toward the empty corner to her left and began to sift through the scents in the room. The smell of an alpha could sometimes trigger a calm state for a stray submissive, though Hawke’s scent hadn’t done a damn thing for her in the last couple of months.

The citrusy cleaning solution was throwing everything off. It wasn’t until she managed to peel her eyes off of the floor and offer the room a few wary glances that she noticed a scent neutralizer in the corner. She wrinkled her nose at it, not quite a sneer.

The present part of her mind reasoned that the service likely had to muddle the scents of the various alphas to avoid infighting. Using the neutralizing product must have also functioned to limit the effect of a distressed submissive on an alpha’s instincts. Logical though it may have been, she was not soothed by understanding the need for such a product.

An overly round cartoon lemon was giving her a dopey smile from the label on the canister. Lira twitched up a corner of her lip. The tapered point of her canine was flashed at the horrid little caricature.

She’d have to do talky-social-type things with the looming grunter if she was going to absorb enough dominance from him to sort herself out.

Dammit.

“It’s a nettlesome scent, is it not?” the seated elf pondered.

Her gaze shifted over to him. He was, as her cursory view upon entering the room had gathered, lounging. His body tilted back, one ankle set atop the opposite knee. The whole of him tilted to face her, unusually broad shoulders at odds with the back of the chair. His hands were folded neatly in his lap, and he was looking curiously toward the scent neutralizer.

“After committing to an undertaking like building-wide scent neutralization, you’d think they could manage choosing something more appealing than artificial lemons.”

“I usually like lemon scented things.”

The words bubbled from her mouth of their own volition. She paused, brows furrowed and lips drooping in a confused expression. Lira had not intended to say anything more than absolutely necessary. Certainly not to the random elf who wasn’t the alpha her insurance was bribing to chat her up. 

His eyes did not stray from the canister, though a grin did pull at the corner of his mouth. She watched it stretch his lips. Her pulse about doubled, and her face felt overly warm.

His teeth looked quite sharp…

“This particular item, however,” she felt her temperature continue to rise as her newly swollen tongue fumbled over simple words. “I-is unpleasant.”

There was silence. Anders and the alpha had stopped speaking to listen to them. Lira wanted desperately to burrow into the peach-colored cushions of the loveseat, fall into an alternate dimension within, and never be seen or heard from again.

What sort of person fills the room with inane chatter about enjoying citrus scents? Why had she done this to herself? Why did she _always_ do this to herself?

“I like lemon smells too,” the alpha said, pulling her attention toward him. “And trust me,” his hands went up as a gesture of sincerity, “it’s an improvement over the cinnamon scent.”

“I shall have to disagree,” the seated man glanced back over his shoulder at the alpha. “I think I’d have found the cinnamon preferable. At least then you could imagine baked goods or something more pleasant than sour lemons.”

The alpha pinned the seated man with a sharp look. “It wasn’t preferable, Solas.”

The tension in the room ratcheted up 1000% as the two held unwavering eye contact. Lira glanced at Anders, shocked to realize that the lounging man must also be an alpha.

The human man’s gaze held an ornery glint that meant he found the rising strain between the two alphas entertaining. Lira sent him a reprimanding look. He shrugged at her in an unapologetic way.

“So,” Lira cleared her throat. The seated man turned his face toward her a bit in recognition, though he did not break his line of sight. She continued, hoping to dissipate some of the challenge between them. “It seems unusual that they would put two alphas in one room.”

“It is,” they answered in unison.

“Huh,” Lira rubbed her sweaty palms against the fabric of her jeans. “You don’t say?”

No one moved to answer her semi-rhetorical question, and so she punctuated the following beats of awkward silence with laughter that was in no way forced or nervous.

She tried again with a more open-ending prompt. “If that’s the case then, uh, why are there two of you in this room?”

Felassan’s answer cracked like a whip. “Because Solas looks down on my volunteer work. He decided to tag along today and prove that helping unbound submissives was a waste of time.”

“That is _untrue_.” The seated man defended himself with quiet disdain. Somehow, in spite of the softness with which he spoke, there was iron in the statement.

Lira shivered. It was in no way related to the thickening of the seated man’s odd cadence nor the silent, writhing current between the two alphas expressing a sudden mass of potential violence. The heady rush of the tension between them did, however, leave her a bit dizzy.

Back on the reservation, this amount of dominance-related strain would have guaranteed a scuffle. Neither of the two men looked particularly ready to pounce, though Lira recognized the markings of Mythal on the face of Felassan. He was likely the one to perform the more traditionally Dalish alpha behaviors that she tended to expect.  The other man’s face was bare, save for some well-placed collections of freckles.

Then again, every clan was different. The keepers of Clan Lavellan had always considered a bit of scrapping here or there a good way to alleviate the risk of truer violence. Humans did not feel the same way, and perhaps Felassan’s clan had looked down upon physical altercations as well.

Realizing that this situation could take a nasty turn, Lira pawed at the linoleum with her toes, an awkward cough escaping her lips as she began to attempt a ham-handed escape. She edged back toward Anders and snagged her boss’ arm. No reason to continue watching this escalation. If the stressed omega left, these two would likely mellow out swiftly.  

“Well, thanks so much for seeing me today, I think I should pro’lly jus-“

“ _Shut up and sit down_.”

It was a growled command issued with so much violent dominance that it slammed into Lira’s gut with the force of a punch.  She was winded. She started shaking. She let go of Anders’ arm and straightened her spine into a militant posture without a second thought, veering toward the nearest seat in the room while a heavy pout clouded her expression. She tried to breathe quietly.

And then, after the knee-jerk obedience, there was a mighty problem.

Felassan instantly deflated. His mouth was agape, and he looked at her with the sort of horrified humiliation that one can only bring upon themselves. Anders had wrapped an arm around her shoulders to stop her going to the loveseat. He was shouting words that she did not quite catch, though a slew of profanity was involved.

The seated man rose slowly to his feet and casually positioned himself between her party and the other elf. “I apologize. It was my fault. I shouldn’t have been goading him.”

“I am so sorry!” Felassan took a more few steps back and held up his palms for her again.

Neither of them were given the opportunity to continue speaking. In the few seconds it took for all of the noise to begin, Lira had snapped out of her instinctual reaction. Her temper flashed so hotly that the scent of it peaked against the neutralizer.  She rushed forward out of Anders’ grasp and shoved the other alpha out of her way with an unconcerned elbow to his side.

“You asshole!” she pointed at Felassan.

Ire was hot in her veins. The general chill and lethargy that had been clinging to her for a solid month dissolved beneath the force of her outrage. “How dare you pull something like that on me? I came in good faith, expecting polite assistance, and instead you bark an order at me like I’m some kind of dog?” She flung her hands like she was slamming her fists on a table. “I want to speak to your supervisor.”

He opened his mouth to say something. She railroaded him, voice just as forceful and assured as his had been when he’d so rudely employed an uninvited tone of command.

 “ _Now.”_     


End file.
